


The will to Obey & The right to Command

by The_Dawn_Knight



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman - Fandom, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefly Setting, Bat Fam Fluff, Curse of Obedience, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Heart Strings tug tug, Multi, Outer Space, Possessive Behavior, Protective Alfred Pennyworth, Protective Bruce Wayne, Protective Dick Grayson, Protective Jason Todd, Protective Siblings, Protective Tim Drake, Reavers (Firefly), The Bat Babies need a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26139019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Dawn_Knight/pseuds/The_Dawn_Knight
Summary: A Batman Space Adventure.Bruce sets out to fight against the rule of a tyrannical government. Eventually collecting a rag tag group of kids on his crew while he fights against evil disguised as Batman.Along with his faithful servant, his crew consists of a draft dodger, a felon, a space pirate, a spy, and a weapon who obeys any command he's given.
Comments: 23
Kudos: 52





	1. Till Death Do Us Part

**Author's Note:**

> A large portion of this plot is inspired or directly taken from the show "Firefly." So obvious possible spoilers for that show if you haven't seen it. And if you haven't seen it, then what are you doing with your life? Lol seriously though, it's a great show, go watch before reading if you think you might like it. If you don't care about the show or spoilers, then just read and enjoy.
> 
> Also note this plot will not follow the rules of the show exactly as it is first and foremost a Batman AU. So if you're thinking that's not how it is on the show, know I likely changed it to fit more with a Batman universe than a Firefly one.

"Tim."

The boy was sitting on the metal floor. One hand in his hair, the other resting on his knee. He was staring ahead lost in a daze. Tim's gaze was directed at a small hole in his boot, but Bruce knew he wasn't actually seeing it. He had on a black coverall that he left unbuttoned so it fell around his waist, with a grey tank top underneath. His expression couldn't have looked more lost.

"Tim," Bruce inquired again more harshly.

Tim jumped at the sound of his name but didn't look up. They didn't have time for this. He walked forward quickly, Bruce grabbed his upper arm, and pulled him to his feet. Tim kept his gaze away from him. "How bad is it?"

His chanced a glance to meet his eyes, but apparently found it too difficult. He looked away again, but Bruce could see it in his expression. It was bad…

"Talk to me," he demanded.

Sighing he answered in a solemn voice, the type of voice you would use when speaking with someone very ill. "It's broken, Sir, I… I don't know what to tell you…"

"Just tell me you can fix it," he was being harsh and he knew it. But indulgence was not typically in his nature, and there was no time for leniency. Tim opened his mouth to speak, but turned away without a reply. Still holding his arm he physically pulled him over to the engine. "What's wrong with it? Show me."

He let him go so Tim could move about freely. Exhaling in exasperation, Tim put a foothold up on one of the device's braces and wretched himself up so he could reach the top of the engine. Being only fourteen he wasn't very tall, so it was the only way he could reach up there.

"They blew the catalyzer off," he explained and reaching behind him he pulled a device he had attached in his belt. "This is it."

The piece he was holding was cracked and the edges were melted. He pointed to a spot on the engine, "It went here. But… it doesn't fit anymore."

Bruce took the piece from him, looking at it. "Can you weld it?"

"Sir…"

"Can you?"

"Yes, but… It's not going to matter," he grabbed the piece back. "It has intricate parts inside, that run along here. If any of them are damaged a basic weld isn't going to fix it."

"Treat it as though it hasn't been damaged then," Bruce explained. "Weld it shut and we'll hope for the best."

"I can't…"

"Yes you can," he demanded and he turned heading back to the door of the engine room.

"Sir I can't!" Tim replied boldly, his expression serious.

He stopped at the door feeling his anger rising slightly before he turned around walking up to him. Gently, but firmly, pulled him down off of the engine and placed both hands on his shoulders looking him dead in the eyes. He had to make him understand, "Tim, without this we don't move. We're dead in the water here…"

"No," Tim shook his head no, he looked down at the object. "Without this, we don't breathe."

"What?" It was worse than bad.

"Life support is offline, auxiliary life support's out too."

"How are we breathing now then?" Bruce asked frowning.

"Whatever it pumped out before it broke."

"How long do we have?"

Tim's gaze fell once more, choosing instead to stare at the device in his hands, "Two hours and that's estimating high."

What a mess… this whole situation was his fault. He was careless and he led his crew into ruin. He put everyone on the ship in danger. And they were going to die now. Because of him…

"Why didn't you tell us?" Tim asked looking up at him. Blood trickled from his hairline and down the side of his face. He had been injured after all it seemed.

It was Bruce's time to turn away. He headed back to the cargo hold and Tim followed him.

Dick was in the process of wrapping his leg with Alfred's help. Babs was sitting on the ground, her knees pulled up to her chest. Damian was sitting on a crate a ways away, purposely putting himself apart from everyone else. Jason was examining his gun with a disapproving expression and Selena and Katherine were both speaking in hushed voices. When they noticed he arrived they all immediately started talking and complaining at the same time.

Tim stopped at the door watching them surround Bruce with questions, complaints, and name-calling for those bold enough. The only one who hadn't attempted to speak was Damian. They were all upset, and like him, they wanted answers. Bruce held up his hand to stop them.

"We have bigger things to worry about," Bruce said. "Alfred Tim needs to be seen to."

Alfred grabbed the bandages he had been using to help Dick and went to Tim's side examining where his head was split open. It wasn't a large wound, but it was bleeding quite a bit. Head wounds tended to.

"Bruce, what the hell was that?" Dick asked acquisitively. "Are you really this Batman freak we've been hearing about?"

"Dick we don't have time for that…"

"Make time!" he snapped. "You hired me to guard this ship, you didn't tell me that you were going to be committing crimes! You've made us all accomplices!"

"Stop talking, that doesn't matter right now!"

"It matters to us! Are you even Bruce Wayne or is that just a story too?" Dick snapped.

"Yes I am," Bruce snapped.

"You replaced my bullets with rubber ones!" Jason snapped glaring at him. "How the hell am I supposed to kill anyone with that?"

"That's the point."

"Bruce just tell us—" Dick began again.

"Their isn't time!" Bruce snapped again.

"Please hear him out," Alfred implored, in an effort to make the boys be quiet. He had directed Tim to take a seat on one of the crates nearby and was in the process of cleaning his wound.

At Alfred's bequest they had fallen reasonably quiet to listen.

"We have less than two hours," Bruce explained. "The engine is broken; this ship is going to run out of air. You all need to pack what you can and get in the shuttles."

Barbara looked up fearfully. "We're… we're a week from the nearest planet. Those shuttles are only meant for short trips."

"You're going to go as far as you can. Hopefully, someone will pick you up. You'll have 24 hours before the ship runs out of fuel, and at least three days before life supports fail," Bruce explained. "Dick, Selina, Damian and Jason you're in my shuttle. Alfred, Tim, Katherine and Barbara. You're in the second shuttle."

"Are you insane?" Selina asked frowning. "We'll die."

"If you stay here, you'll die," Bruce pointed out and she half shrugged accepting that.

"And just where are you going?" Katherine asked.

"I'm staying here."

Everyone looked surprised at that and a few people exchanged glances with one another.

"Why? That's suicide?" Selina looked concerned at that.

"Life supports are down, but we still have power for at least a little while. I need to send out a distress beacon. The shuttles don't have nearly the same range as this ship does. If anyone responds to it's call while I'm still alive I'll send you a message to return so the rescue party will find you."

"That's only, two hours," Kate snapped. "We're a ways out in the verse like Barbara said. You're really going to risk death for a sliver of a chance that someone will pick up your signal in the two hours before you die? Seriously?"

"Yes. I want to make sure you have every chance of being found. No more questions. No more arguments. Just move," he snapped turning heel he headed towards the bridge.

"That's it?" Dick snapped.

Bruce stopped turning back to him, Grayson had approached him.

"Dick for the last time…"

"You can't just end it all like this—"

Bruce reached forward grabbing his shirt collar he shoved him none to gently against the wall. "This is my ship, and you do what I tell you. Now move, or I'll knock you out and throw your unconscious ass on the shuttle."

Damian finally spoke up, "Might be a smarter idea, he'll use less air that way."

"Shut your mouth Damian!" Grayson snapped out of anger.

Damian's mouth closed instantly and he threw Dick a _what the hell are you doing_ look.

Bruce released him giving Grayson the same glare. Like Father like Son. Dick sighed. "Sorry Damian. Ignore that."

Damian opened and closed his mouth to make sure he had full functionality back and Bruce left heading to the bridge.

Alfred who had finished patching Tim up walked over to Dick who stood in stunned silence.

"Go ahead and begin the preparations," Alfred urged. "I will talk to him."

He went down the hall following Bruce to the bridge.

"Master Bruce," Alfred said softly.

"Those orders were for you too Alfred," Bruce explained not looking up from the screen he was focusing on attempting to boost the distress signal.

"Master Bruce, adding one more will make no difference. I wish you would come with us."

"We can't answer the distress signal put out by this ship on a shuttle. I'll stay."

"Then let me stay instead Master Bruce. Those kid's need your guidance."

"Those kids are only in this situation because of me," Bruce snapped in return, and he didn't appreciate being reminded of that, even if it hadn't been Alfred's intention.

"I'm old Master Bruce, if anyone should go on the shuttle, it should be—"

"Don't," he warned, but softly. "This is my fault, and I'm going to do everything I can to fix it…"

"…"

"Watch over them in my stead Alfred," Bruce ordered. His final order.

Alfred reached up grabbing the pin attached to his lapel that had the Wayne family crest upon it. He had proudly been displaying the family he worked under for the last three years ever since he returned from the war. Now, it all came to an end like this. He placed it on the dash by Bruce, the soft clak of the gold placed against metal was louder than he ever thought possible.

"It's been a pleasure serving you Master Bruce," he said softly. A final bow, and Alfred turned away. For Bruce's own sake, Alfred didn't look back.

While Bruce worked on the signal the rest of them worked at gathering supplies and belongings and loading them onto the ship. It was fast but quiet work, when the ships were loaded they all met in the cargo bay for final goodbyes. Bruce remained on the bridge. As expected. With goodbyes exchanged, they went to the respective shuttles they had been assigned to, only…

"I want to go with Pennyworth," Damian demanded right before they were about to board it for the last time.

"No time," Grayson still looked upset from how Bruce had spoke to him earlier.

"He's old, he's going to need extra help!" Damian said defiantly.

Dick sighed. "Fine, but hurry."

Damian grabbed Titus' leash, hurrying to the other side of the ship where Alfred and the other's were boarding their own shuttles.

"Pennyworth."

Alfred looked up at the sound of his name, "You better get on your shuttle, we're disembarking soon."

"Take Titus," he demanded.

"What for?"

"Selina keeps going on and on about how she's a cat person. She doesn't want him on board, you will take him."

"Are you sure?"

"Don't question me," he responded coldly. But turned to the dog with more affection scratching the dog's ear, "Be good."

After handing Titus off he hurried away. But he did not go to the other shuttle.

Within' five minutes Bruce made the final call to both ships.

"Are you all in?" Bruce asked over the intercom.

"We got everyone here," Grayson responded from the shuttle they were in.

"And everyone is present on our end," Alfred answered from their shuttle.

"Good. Take off now. Opposite directions. I need to focus on listening for a signal, so I'm going to turn off the call on my end. I'll turn it back on if I'm able to get ahold of help. Otherwise stay in touch between you all. If one of you gets rescued, go and pick up the other group. Bruce out."

He flicked the intercom off letting out a sigh. He didn't want to hear any of them saying goodbye to him. He didn't deserve their farewells. Leaning back in his chair he started wracking his brain trying to think of anything else he could do or try to boost the signal and give them a better chance of being rescued.

He saw the ships launch, and within' a moment they were gone. Good. They would be safe for a little while at least, and if their was any justice in this verse. Someone would find them.

The cold was just starting to settle in. He grabbed one of the blankets that was left flung over the chair.

Damian remained down the hall before the bridge entrance. He had successfully tricked the others to leave without him. But now he had to wait before letting Bruce know, because he had to make sure the other shuttles were far enough away that they couldn't be recalled.

Quietly he descended the step ladder to his room and stretched out on his cot for about ten minutes. He would have waited longer, but he also didn't have a lot of time, and he wanted to speak with Bruce before they were both gone.

He hadn't many possessions, but he had been given a chess board that he was rather fond of so he grabbed the game bringing it up stairs with him.

The ship was quiet, obviously. But even he couldn't have imagined just how quiet the ship could get. Without the engine running you didn't even hear the humming sound of machinery at work. This noise was typically constant but because it was ever-present, it got tuned out in the talk and laughter of an average day on the ship.

Damian went to the kitchen which had been almost completely stripped among the two shuttles, but he found a can containing one of Tim's caffeinated drinks and grabbed it kicking the fridge closed behind him. One perk of losing life support in space all your shit stayed cold whether it was in the fridge or not.

He made his way back to the bridge, and walked to the entrance. Bruce was hard at work messing with the dials. He took no notice of him, even though he hadn't made any effort to stay quiet in his approach this time.

Damian held up the chess board, "Care for a game?"

Bruce spun around so fast looking surprised at first, and then upset.

"What are you doing here?!" he stood up glaring at him.

"You're a venerable asshole Father, but even you don't deserve to die alone," he said walking past him.

"Damian, you were supposed to get on the shuttle."

"Yes, but you never directly ordered me. So I choose to ignore you," he sat down on the floor laying the chess board out on the ground.

"I'm calling them back," Bruce snapped taking his seat once again at the controls. He was about to turn on the call when Damian interrupted him.

"And make them waste the fuel they could be using to escape? If that's your wish Father."

His hand paused hovering over the call button and then in balled to a fist in frustration. "Damian—"

"Save the scolding for our next life. We have a little over an hour before we'll both be gone, and I'd rather spend that time playing a game."

He had by that point set up the chess board. "Care to go first?"

He was completely stressed now. This had not been what he wanted. He wanted everyone to get away from here. He was supposed to be the only one dying today.

"Damian," he sighed.

"Alright I'll go first."

So calm. Meanwhile Bruce was already finding it hard to keep his mind right. Despite what everyone seemed to think, he was just a person, he got scared like anyone else. Though admittedly, his fear was directed more towards the others. But now instead of suffering the existential dread and impending demise without the burden of having to be strong and keep his guard up. Damian had sentenced him, in his final moments, to having to feign solace for the sake of the child who would be watching him die. No… in all likelihood, it would be the other way around…

Damian moved one of his pawns and opened the drink he had brought with him.

Taking a slow deep breath he removed the blanket from his shoulder's putting them over Damian's before he took a seat across with him grabbing a second blanket off the pilot chair for himself. "I thought you didn't like those drinks?"

"I never tried one before," Damian admitted taking a sip. He instantly made a face. "Yeah, it's as bad as I imagined."

But he didn't stop drinking it…

He smirked at that, and moved his piece. After a few pieces moved Damian asked the question Bruce knew he would.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

There was no point in not answering now. "I didn't want you all involved, I worried something would happen that would cause one of you to get hurt if you found out."

"We're all on this ship together," Damian explained. "How long did you really think you could keep it a secret?"

"Damian, I really don't feel like discussing that," Bruce explained. As with Alfred, this was all just a reminder of how badly he had failed.

"Okay, then how about you tell me what possessed you to pick the name Batman?" Damian mocked.

"I didn't pick that, they just started calling me that after awhile," Bruce glanced out at the stars. "Is it really that bad?"

"It's completely stupid," Damian admitted. "You should have told people a name so you could have picked it."

"What name would have suited me then?" he inquired.

Damian didn't look up from the board as he pondered an answer. "Hell Bringer"

Bruce smiled, "I have to admit, that sounds cooler."

A few more pieces moved across the board in silence and Damian spoke up again, "Can I ask what you were trying to do?"

"I intended to end the Alliance, working my way from the bottom to the top of their regime."

"You're one person," Damian raised an eyebrow.

"Thanks for the reminder," he answered moving another piece.

"I'm implying that it would be like us playing this game and you winning with just one piece. It'd be impossible. It was absurd for you to even try."

Damian took a longer than normal moment to examine the board this time and Bruce leaned back against the piloting equipment looking thoughtfully at him. He was being scolded by a child. Damian hadn't been here long, and all he knew about him was that Damian was supposed to be his son. They didn't have the equipment here to determine if it was true or not, but just based on looks. He could kind of see it. Their eye colors were different, but some of the expressions he would make, to the way he would move was very much him, as Alfred had pointed out more than once. Something was off with Damian mentally though. He was intelligent enough but socially he didn't act the way normal children were supposed to act. He was violent. His mood could change on a dime.

He sighed while he waited. Continuing to ponder their position. Bruce felt horribly guilty about them all ending up in this situation because of him. But if their was any guilt he had about the actual act of dying, it was thinking he wouldn't get to see Damian overcome all the stacks that had been placed against him. Honestly, he had been looking forward to watching them all grow up, having gotten more attached to those kids than he had ever intended to.

"We are on a bit of a time limit." Bruce teased.

He didn't phrase it as a command. Something in the form of say, "Hurry up." That wouldn't work with Damian because with Damian you couldn't give him commands. He obeyed everything. He couldn't choose not to. It was part of what was wrong with him. Since the day they found out. Everyone took special care to phrase things so they couldn't be mistaken as a command.

"I'll beat you before the air runs out don't worry," he responded confidently before moving his next piece.

It's an inevitability for men to reflect on their life in their final moments. Bruce Wayne was no different. What he couldn't figure out, was why, in his last hour did he only reflect back upon these last eight or so months of reasonably long life.

* * *

༒ back when it started ༒

* * *

"You singed the papers on this already? Sir?" Alfred asked with a solemn tone as he walked onto the ship for the first time.

"You don't like it?" Bruce asked walking aboard the transport ship. It was completely made of metal. From the flooring to the walls everything was a dull rusted grey and brown color. Even Alfred didn't think he could turn this into a suitable place for his Master to live.

"Like is… Not the world I would use."

"It'll be fine," he walked over the metal grates kicking aside some of the crates left over by the ship's previous owners so he could get to the stairs heading down a long hallway. Alfred followed his gaze becoming more and more disapproving the further in they went.

"Master Bruce, don't you think you're taking this a bit too far?"

"Too far?" he questioned as he walked onto the bridge.

"You fought hard Master Bruce, just because your side lost it doesn't mean you have to rush off to space. You don't need to run—"

"I'm not running Alfred," Bruce explained firmly blowing dust off the buttons and dials.

"Master Bruce, the Wayne name is still held in high regard even under the new regime. You could rebuild in this new world if you would just contact—"

"I don't want any part of this new world. Ra's Al Ghul is a madman, and if he's going to control the central planets under this new Alliance, then I will go further out. His reign needs to be stopped. I have some people I can talk to who might be able to give me some insight on just how bad this reign is going to get. Then I'll try to find a way to stop it."

"How exactly?"

"Whatever I can do. Buy planets out from under him. Bribe people to feed me information. Whatever I can..."

"A very admiral plan Master Bruce, but I must insist, the chances of you succeeding…"

Bruce leaned back in the pilot's seat, frowning slightly. "I'd rather die trying than do nothing Alfred."

"I see… I will not say another word against it then."

"Where will you go?"

"Go? Sir?" Alfred asked softly.

"What I'm doing is going to be dangerous Alfred. You're welcome to–"

"I served the Wayne family since your Father was but a lad. I have no intention of leaving your side Master Bruce."

Alfred had indeed been with his family that long. He had taken a personal leave when Bruce was a toddler in order to see to and care for a sick family member, and then went straight from there to fight in the war when it began. He returned when the war was done expressing a wish to be with his family again. Bruce knew he had been disappointed to find his parent's were dead, as they were the people he had considered family. Having been a toddler the last time Alfred had seen him. They had had to spend these last two and half years since the end of the war catching up.

"I appreciate that Alfred," he answered.

"I had best begin my work then," Alfred explained rolling up his sleeves.

"Work?"

"Making this place inhabitable of course," he explained. "Now, I pride myself on being well versed in all things, but even I can't run this ship completely on my own."

"Yeah…" he answered frowning. They were going to need a crew. "In the meantime, I will help you clean up."

"I wouldn't dream of it Master Bruce, you—"

But he had already started.

The two of them got to work throwing out the unnecessary items left by the previous owners. Alfred swept the dust and the cobwebs away. This ship had clearly been in the shipyard for some time. Bruce stayed in the bridge familiarizing himself with how the ship functioned. He flipped a few switches and pressed the button that turned the engines on. The engine started booting and quickly died. He frowned. Great, he purchased a dead ship. No wonder he got it so cheap. Feeling rather annoyed at his own stupidity he took out a rag and started wiping away the dust on the seats. Alfred would not have made that mistake.

Several hours went by, and the ship while not up to par, was a least cleared of the unnecessary debris.

"I'll keep at it Master Bruce, in the meantime, it sounded like you should find us a mechanic."

It was a mark of Alfred's respect for him that he didn't point out his mistake. Nodding Bruce grabbed his nearby black trench coat pulling it over his shoulders without putting his arms through the sleeves. "I'll be back."

He headed towards the shipyard exit where the shipyard's owner was seated happily on the porch in front of the shack he used as an office.

"Enjoying your boat?" he asked laughing. "I'm surprised you haven't taken off yet."

Bruce choose to ignore him heading towards the nearby town. It was hot. This desert planet was the first rock was his first stop after the Alliance took official control of this corner of the verse. He knew this place was known for its industry and he knew that it sold ships at discount prices. Which was what he needed.

So odds are their had to be a mechanic on this hunk of rock somewhere. Everyone knows when you need information you go to taverns. It's where people like to talk, and the alcohol loosened tongues, so…

He walked inside glancing around the smoke-filled room. It was very crowded. Many were laughing and chanting. A few people in the corner were singing. He went up to the bartender and inquired about where a mechanic might be.

"Best mechanic I know is Jack of all trades Drake," he explained. "He doesn't live too far from here."

"Where can I find him?"

"Braces and Bolts," he answered. "It's a parts shop. He works there. It's north of here."

"Thank you," he turned leaving the shop. A few small children without shoes ran by chasing each other and laughing.

"Let's go! I want to see the animals!"

"Yea the circus! Let's go!"

Off in the distance he could see the top of a very large and colorful tent. Most of the crowd seemed to be heading out that way, but the shop he needed was north. So he walked opposite the crowd searching. The Braces and Bolts shop was hard to find. It was set in along the line of shops and positioned between a gambling house and smelter. He nearly missed it and probably would have if he hadn't heard cussing from inside.

Two people were arguing with one another when he walked in, but they stopped when they noticed him.

"Can I help you?" the man behind the counter asked.

"I'm looking for a man by the name of Jack Drake."

"That's me," growled the rough man at the counter that the apparent owner had been arguing with. He had half a bottle of liquor in his hand, his clothes were dirty and torn. He had on a sleeveless shirt and his hair was messy and graying and Jack was covered in sweat from what was hopefully a hard day's work. "What do you want?"

"I need a mechanic. A live-in mechanic for my ship. I was told you're the best."

He smiled and scratched his beard looking overly self-important. "I am indeed the best," he explained.

"But he works for me," the man behind the counter pointed out looking noticeably nervous.

"Well that depends," Jack leaned forward towards his boss speaking with a mocking tone. He turned back to Bruce, "How much are you paying? It costs more to have a live-in anything you know."

"How much do you want?" Bruce asked.

"900 credits a month," Jack spoke rather quickly in response.

"Sir, he's good, I'll admit that. But even I only pay him 400 and that's high for what people earn in his field," the man behind the counter folded his arms as though he knew no one would afford what Jack was asking.

"I'll give you six," Bruce offered.

"Now wait a minute, I'll need at least eight," Jack said, he took another gulp on his bottle. "I have responsibilities you know. I have boy to look after, and if I'm to be a live-in mechanic he'll have to come aboard with me, and well… I'll need to make enough to feed two."

"Live-in, includes room and board so you won't have to worry about paying for food for you or your son," Bruce explained. "I'll go as high as seven."

Jack's face split into a wide smile, he turned to his boss.

"Bye," he said jumping off the stool he was on and he stumbled slightly.

"Now wait a minute," the man behind the counter rushed forward. "Just wait a sec Jack. I'll… I'll give you five to stay, and you won't have to worry about being stuck on some tiny rig out there in the verse. C'mon…"

"Not a chance, I happen to like space," he laughed heading towards the door. "I'll get my son and meet you at your ship. Where you docked?"

"The shipyard north of here. Lot 7."

"Alright," he laughed he was just about to walk out when he paused and turned back. "You got any women on that wreck of yours?"

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "No," he answered feeling uneasy about the man, but what could he do? He needed a mechanic. "Even if I did, they would be off-limits to you."

"Well no matter," he laughed. "I'm sure we'll make lots of stops."

With that he disappeared from view.

The man at the counter looked distraught.

"Sorry," Bruce explained. "If I wasn't desperate, I wouldn't have taken him from you."

"What the hell am I supposed to do? He's my best mechanic!"

"Again… Sorry."

Bruce went back out into the heat. What else would his ship need? Alfred would be fine for cooking and any medical needs that might arise. He would need a pilot. He and Alfred knew how to fly in the most basic sense. But they would need a professional one with more knowledge than the essentials. He would need a guard. Someone who knows how to fight. In case they ran into trouble. People liked to steal ships and rob inventories when you dock on strange planets, so it would be necessary to have someone who can protect it.

That could probably wait. Getting the ship off the ground was the most important thing right now. Bruce headed back to the ship and found Alfred had made them dinner. The fine china was out of place on this cheap ship with little to no furnishings.

"Thanks Alfred," Bruce said sitting down beside him on the ground.

"I apologize for the crude accommodations Master Bruce," Alfred said.

"No apology needed Alfred," Bruce assured him. "This looks amazing."

"I will be sure to fetch some necessary items from the manor, and I will decorate your shuttle in the manor in which you're accustomed,"

The food was just as delicious as it had always been it didn't matter that they were eating on the floor. Bruce expected the mechanic to show up that afternoon, but he didn't…

"Perhaps he changed his mind," Alfred suggested. He was washing the utensils clean in a basin on the ground outside after their meal.

"Perhaps," Bruce sighed he was attempting to fix the hydraulic hinge on the cargo bay doors. It didn't close quite right, and if it didn't close right out in space their oxygen wouldn't be able to be contained on the ship. He kept working on it as he answered, "I'll do some research tomorrow, see if I can get it running."

"I have a limited knowledge of machinery, more directed at war tanks and caravans," Alfred explained. "But a spaceship shouldn't be too different."

It was vastly different. But Bruce could tell Alfred was trying to be optimistic. "We can work at it together."

"Yeah…" They didn't have a chance though. This rig was never going to get off the ground without a mechanic and since it seemed obvious Jack didn't want the job, he would have to look for one again tomorrow. The circus would likely have some equipment, perhaps they would have a good mechanic there as well?

* * *

So the following morning he headed to the circus.

It seemed just as popular today as it had been the day before. He paid the two credit entrance fee, and took a seat in the stands. He noticed quite a bit of tech around but didn't know why there was so much of it until the show started.

The animals that came out. Weren't actually animals. They were holograms, and the devices around were making sure the animals were able to be clearly shown from all sides. It made sense that they would use holograms. Creatures they didn't have to pay to train or feed. Smart.

The show was like any other circus act you would expect. He kept his attention on people working behind the scenes. Looking at the people who interacted with the equipment the most. He knew hologram machines weren't the same as spaceships but perhaps someone working here would have other mechanical talents that were being wasted in a little circus like this.

But something caught his eye that wasn't the background workers. A trapeze act came on that was absolutely impressive. The boy was in his late teens, and was pulling off incredible jumps and flips the likes of which seemed almost impossible. Add some martial arts to those moves and he would certainly be a force to reckon with. Everyone cheered for him, a few children stood up waving.

After his skit was done, the animals came out again.

Bruce got up from his seat and walked into the employees only section of the circus.

"Can I help you?" a lanky man inquired. Looking nervous.

"Hello, I'm Bruce Wayne," he said holding out his hand.

The man walked over shaking his hand. "Mr. Wayne. How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for a mechanic," Bruce pointed out. "I was hoping I might find one here."

"Oh I wish I could help you, our people are acrobats and jugglers. We don't even have official tech staff for our hologram machines, everyone picked up a little bit about running it along the way though, so we all do our best to work on them when they malfunction."

"I see…" Bruce nodded. "The boy on the trapeze. Who was he?"

"Richard Grayson, my best acrobat," he explained happily. "Though not for much longer."

"Why not?"

"Our circus is disbanding. Ever since Al Ghul's Alliance became official all profits from the core planet businesses go straight to the government now, he gives out a universal income which isn't enough to live on since prices didn't change, and my staff can't afford to stay here much longer. Worse than that, the government have been taking people from my business. They're coming to get Grayson in a few days."

"Taking people?"

"Yeah, Alliance officials come by now and then looking for kids without parents or guardians with the intent of enrolling them in compulsory military service. They decided Grayson will deploy in two days. Damn shame too. One more year he would have been an adult, but… I expect by that time the government will be requiring mandatory service of everyone anyway and not just the kids they think no one would miss."

"He sure has wasted no time," Bruce frowned.

"Ra's Al Gul's been running things for years," the man pointed out. "It just didn't get made official until recently."

"Can I speak to Grayson?"

"Of course, let me get him for you."

He hurried off. Bruce leaned up against a nearby pillar watching the hologram animals finish their act from a crack in the curtain separating the main stage from the backstage. After a few minutes, the kid approached him through the crowd. He had already changed out of his outfit and had on a pair of baggy pants, military boots and a brown tweed jacket.

"You asked about me?" he inquired.

"I heard you're leaving," he replied. "My name is Bruce Wayne."

"Is that name supposed to mean something to me?"

"It might soon."

"Just tell me what you want," he sighed readjusting the knapsack on his shoulder, which appeared to be heavy.

"I'm going to be captaining a cargo ship," Bruce explained. "I need someone aboard willing to protect that cargo as well as the crew members. You could get out of your military service."

"No, I can't," he snapped.

Bruce had on his business face until that point. "Have they already branded you?"

The Alliance loved marking their soldiers, as he himself had already seen in the recent war. They claimed it was easier to identify the bodies if they're marked, but it was more to keep them in line and stop them from fleeing. Bruce was half expecting them to brand everyone before long.

"Yeah," he answered. "We done?"

"If you come with me, you won't have to worry about your service."

"Deserters get executed," Grayson pointed out. "I'm not really excited about having the government chasing me down to put a bullet in my brain. So, if you'll excuse me…"

Grayson started walking away.

Bruce thought quickly. "I plan to fly away from the core planets and I don't plan to stop anywhere for too long. You want to hide from the Feds, constantly moving is your best bet. Come be my guard."

"A guard you say?" he raised an eyebrow at the idea. "So you saw me flying around up there and the first thought that entered your mind was that this guy would make a good… guard. That's a bigger leap than the ones I was doing."

"I could teach you some martial arts, added with those acrobatic skills. I think you would make really good security personnel."

"So I would be traveling with you."

"Yup."

"Where are you headed?"

"Wherever I want."

"So I'm just supposed to travel with you to absolutely anywhere your rich ass decides to go? Man… wealthy people really do think the verse revolves around them."

"So you do know me," Bruce grinned. He wouldn't have known he had money if he hadn't known the name because he certainly wasn't dressed like it at the moment.

Grayson folded his arms choosing to ignore his taunt, "What's the pay?"

"Seven hundred credits a month."

"That's a hell of a lot more than I make now," Grayson admitted. "Okay, I'll bite. Why exactly would your ship need protecting? Are you hiding something?"

"Some planets are more dangerous than others, and I just want to make sure my belongings are safe on all of them," he explained. "I'm a busy man, do you want the job or no?"

Grayson scratched his head, "Ugh… Damn it, I can't think of a reason to say no. Alright… When are we leaving?"

"As soon as I find a mechanic," Bruce admitted. "I'm docked in the shipyard. Lot 7. Come as soon as soon as you've packed your things and said goodbye."

Bruce turned heading back to the Shipyard. When he got there. Alfred was speaking with Mr. Drake. A boy was beside him, holding two large duffle bags and looking annoyed.

Bruce walked up to him looking annoyed, "You were supposed to be here yesterday."

"We had things to get in order, and I had a hell of a time finding your ship," he explained as an excuse. "I wanna see our bunk and then we'll take a look at your engine room."

"Alfred."

He nodded and led them to the room they would be sleeping in.

Bruce noticed, with a bit of disgust, that the man was making his kid carry all their bags and hadn't bothered carrying anything himself. They needed a mechanic, and he was the best. Regardless of the man's moral shortcomings, if he could do the job, that's what Bruce cared about.

He checked the hydraulic hinge he had been working on. It seemed to be closing right now, smiling he headed to the engine room just in time to see Jack exploring it. His son was leaning against the wall by the door, his arms crossed looking impartial.

"Think you can work on this?" Bruce asked.

"Oh sure, this will be easy," Jack boasted. "I worked on these sorts of engines all the time; I can fix anything in here."

"Great, how long will it take you?"

"Oh…" He scanned the engine and scratched his beard. "Two hours."

"Good. See to it then," Bruce headed back towards the door, but paused next to the kid. He held out his hand, "What's your name?"

"Tim," he answered shaking it.

"Do you want a tour while your Dad gets to work?" he asked.

"I actually like my son to stay close to me," Jack explained. "No offense, but you're all still strangers to us. Maybe after some time together."

Bruce frowned, "Fair enough, you can both go on a tour after the ship is repaired."

Bruce left with Alfred following closely behind and Jack eyed the doorway until he was sure they were gone. Smiling he grabbed his tool box handing it to Tim. "You heard our new boss, See to it."

"Dad, this can't be fixed in two hours," Tim attempted to point out.

"Well, that's what I told him. So get it done. Don't you dare cost me this job," he demanded shoving him roughly towards the engine. He closed the door and sat off to the side taking out a cigar, which he lit, and then removed a magazine from his back pocket.

* * *

"You must be Grayson," Alfred extended his hand when the boy Bruce had described showed up.

"Hi, who are you?"

"I am the ship steward, as well as Master Bruce's personal servant," Alfred explained.

"Figured the rich guy would have a servant," Grayson laughed. "Where should I put my things?"

"Follow me," Alfred led him to the bunk rooms. He explained which room was already taken and then told Dick he could choose from the remaining rooms. He picked one climbing the step ladder down. It had a simple cot attached to the wall, a small room with a toilet and sink and a desk in the corner. Nothing much. But he wasn't expecting a lot of his quarters. He had however, been expecting more of the ship.

"I hope It's to your liking Mr. Grayson," Alfred could see the expression on his face.

"Explain something to me Alfred? Why does a rich man like Bruce Wayne have this piece of shit cargo ship instead of a luxury liner?" Grayson asked.

"He has his reasons," Alfred answered clearly implying that it was not of his business in the politest way he could.

"Fair enough," Grayson answered.

"Meals are served by me three times a day and I am here to assist with anything else you may need," Alfred had given the same spiel to Jack when he showed him his room.

"Thank you, I'll get my room sorted then," Grayson opened his bag and Alfred left to give him privacy. He went up to the bridge where Bruce was attempting to clean off the large windshield.

"So we have a guard, and a mechanic," Alfred said. "After the ship is repaired, we should be ready to leave. Where do you want to go to first?"

He wiped his hands on the towel near him getting the excess soap off his hands. "My first goal is getting as far from the Alliance owned planets as possible. I'll do some research, figure out the smaller workings that make his government run."

"Then what Master Bruce?"

He sighed, but his expression became serious, "Then I start taking them down. One faction at a time. No one on this ship is to know, if they ask why we're docked somewhere, you simply tell them Bruce Wayne has business."

"Will do Sir."

Bruce checked his watch. "Our engine should be up and running now. Let's see if our new mechanic is worth half his salt."

They headed to the engine room. Jack heard them coming and jumped up ordering his son to his feet. "How much longer on this boy?"

"A half hour," Tim answered leaning against the far wall so he was out of the way.

Alfred slid the door open and Bruce walked in. "How's the engine coming along?"

"It's beautiful, I just finished it," Jack got to his feet smiling throwing the wrench in with his other tools.

Tim sighed closing his eyes upon hearing him say it, there his Father went again…

"Wonderful, I want to hear it."

"Right," Jack answered stepping to the side. "Son, why don't you start up the engine. Just like I showed you."

 _Just like I showed you_ , his Father's code word for I don't know how to do this, and I don't want to look like an idiot, so do it for me.

There were two ways to boot up an engine, one was on the bridge. Easily accessible by the pilot. The other was in the engine room itself. He walked over flipping a few switches, and then he hit one of the buttons holding it in for ten seconds. There was an increasing roar and then the engine began spinning.

"See," Jack said grinning.

"Looks good," Bruce answered. "You officially got the job. Alfred, start dinner please, I'll get us into the atmo and on our way."

"Certainly Sir," Alfred answered hurrying off to complete the order.

"Good work Drake," Bruce complimented before heading to the bridge.

"And you said it would take another half hour," Jack laughed.

"It needs another half hour, this engine could literally stop at any time!" he explained frowning.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," he said stretching. "I'm going to go see what sort of alcohol they got on this ship."

With that his father disappeared around the corner too. Tim cursed under his breath turning back to the contraption. So now he just had to work on a running engine…


	2. Till Death Do Us Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Bruce has a plan, he starts his attempt to fight back against the Alliance headed by Ra's Al Ghul, even though overthrowing the Lord seems to be out of the question now. Keeping people outside the core planets safe is still a worthwhile endeavor. Their first trial is about to test them when a couple of scam artists seeks safe passage on his ship.

"Why... why don't Chess Masters buy checkerboard table clothes?" Damian's inquiry took him a little by surprise. The boy telling a joke was... unexpected. He wasn't aware Damian even knew any jokes.

Bruce smiled weakly, something he himself didn't often do. "I don't know, why?"

"Because it takes them two hours to pass the salt." His face remained passive but quickly broke under the strain of holding back laughter and he started giggling at the idea. Bruce, laughed softly at it too. This would have been a nice moment, a good memory and sight to see, if it wasn't for the fact that Bruce knew exactly what was happening to them.

Damian's laughter turned into a cough, and his breath was labored as he picked up his rook moving the piece across the board. He was starting to shake from the cold the heat was dissipating faster than Bruce thought it would.

"Damian, we don't have to finish—."

Damian just shook his head pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders, "It's your turn."

"Damian—"

"My mind feels fuzzy," he said so softly Bruce could barely hear him.

"Damian—"

"If you make me run out of time before we finish this I'm going to come back and haunt you," he threatened.

Damian was struggling. He was a child, intrepid at the prospect of their looming deaths. It was clear he was losing this fight quicker than Bruce was and his expression told him that not only did Damian realize this, but he was disappointed in his own fragility from not being able to ride it out. Bruce knew what Damian had intended by staying. The boy had wanted to outlast him. Make sure that Bruce didn't die alone and then he would pass away by himself. He wasn't sure if Damian had chosen to do this because he thought Bruce was weak or if, maybe... being there for him in his final moments was (in his mind) an honorable death.

He wanted to ask him.

But he wasn't sure that he wanted to know the answer.

One thing was very clear, Damian wasn't going to outlast him.

* * *

༒ back when it started ༒

* * *

A week in space and it was very obvious who the real mechanic was, even without the cameras that Bruce had made sure to place in pretty much every corner of the ship. He had obviously left them out of private bunks and passenger dorms but everywhere else on the ship he could put one, got one. Tim was almost always in the engine room.

"You need to stop assuming that you're the only person on this ship who knows about all that mechanical stuff," his Father snapped arguing with his son in the cargo hold one evening.

"Well I know enough not to purchase a T83 catalyzer, they're shit, and they were recalled for good reason seeing as they only last three or four months before—"

"Last I checked Captain Wayne made me the mechanic, I've made it your job to make the parts work," he growled looking annoyed with his son. These parts were extras that they had lying around the shop that their Father had thought useful.

"Yeah, and you purchased the cheapest parts possible and pocketed the rest of the money," Tim retorted defiantly, over the years his Father has stolen a lot from the shop he worked for. Drake back handed Tim for speaking out of turn and walked up close getting right up in his face whispering something to him that the audio recording on the camera's couldn't pick up. Bruce was watching from the shuttle set aside for him. Alfred had made it as fancy as possible with some of the items from his manor home.

Bruce frowned watching that, and Alfred winced upon witnessing it.

"Is their not something we can do about him?" Alfred asked. It wasn't the first case of abuse that they had witnessed from Mr. Drake since their initial launch, though all of it was done when no one else was physically in the room. They witnessed it all from the cameras.

"The ship is mine," Bruce pointed out. "The kid isn't. As unfair as it is. I don't have the authority to tell another man what he can and can't do with his own child."

"Still..." Alfred said frowning he turned back to the monitor where Drake had begun walking away. Once he got half way up the stairs leading out of the cargo hold Tim threw the catalyzer at his father's head, it fell with a clank between the floor grate and the wall. That shot was incredible though. Drake tripped on hitting his chin on the step and he slipped down three of them before he caught himself grabbing onto the cable railing.

Alfred couldn't help but smile at that and Bruce was kind of glad to see he had some spunk. Around other people Tim tended to be quiet and stay out of the way so he figured he was just a shy kid, a trait he had assumed stemmed from his abusive father.

Drake jumped to his feet and started chasing after him, but being in his 40s and overweight he was too big to catch Tim. Who had quickly bolted up the side of one of their crates and grabbed onto the metal overhang above it pulling himself up. He slipped through the cable railing looking down at his Father who had started cussing at him. Drake went over to the steps bolting up them to get to where Tim was, and it was at that moment that Richard emerged from the side hull.

"What's with all the commotion?" he asked frowning.

Drake, looked furiously from Dick to Tim and seemed to think better of continuing his pursuit. He stormed off to his bunk complaining under his breath the whole way.

"Okay, what happened?" Dick asked turning to Tim looking confused.

"Just pissing off my Dad," Tim answered. "You never did things that upset your parents?"

"Occasionally," Dick answered. "When they were alive."

"Sorry..." Tim said right away looking nervous. Clearly seeking to change the subject he added, "I... I saw you and Bruce training the other day. It was really cool. Who would have thought a rich guy like him would be so good at fighting."

"Rich people have the time to learn a whole mess of useless shit," Dick pointed out making his way to the kitchen he grabbed some fruit off the counter he sat down on a lounge chair to eat it. "Whereas poor people have the time to learn a single trade and work in it the rest of their lives. I'm surprised though, I'm actually pretty good at what he's teaching me. I wouldn't have bothered but it was either do this or join in a fight I don't believe in, it's nice to see you're finally talking though kid. How long have you worked with your Dad?"

Tim grabbed an apple as well and sat on the armrest of the sofa chair next to Dick putting his feet up on the seat. "Since I was seven."

"Did he teach you how to be a mechanic?"

"No, I just liked reading, and I'm really good at remembering the things I read. Operations manuals were usually all I could find lying around most days. So I would just read them and I would remember it."

"If you boys were hungry I would have been happy to make lunch a little early," Alfred said upon walking into the room and seeing them munching on fruit.

"We're fine Alfred," Dick said. "Just a snack before I start training."

"No training today," Bruce said following Alfred in the room. "I have business at our next stop."

"What sort of business?" Dick asked grinning.

"My kind, you just worry about staying on the ship."

"I'll protect it with my life Sir," Dick joked saluting him for emphasis.

"You do that," Bruce said. "Alfred think you can land the ship?"

"I think I can manage," Alfred answered.

"Good, I want to be in atmo in five minutes."

"Right away Sir," Alfred headed to the bridge.

"He's never landed this ship," Tim questioned looking genuinely concerned by this bit of news.

"Alfred is really good at figuring things out," Bruce explained. "It'll be fine."

"I think I'm gonna go in there and try to help him," Tim said jumping to his feet.

"Can you land a ship?" Bruce asked.

"No. Not really, but I have a rough idea," Tim confessed. "Still two people who have never landed a ship before has to be better than one."

He hurried off after him.

Landing went... Well landing went. The ship was intact and no body died. You really couldn't hope for anything better than that. Though Tim admitted something had broke on the ship during landing.

"It's minor, Dad will have it fixed before you get back," Tim assured him.

So Bruce headed out onto the planet. The planet was dubbed Tyche after a Greek Goddess from ancient times. The main town on this world was antiquated. The buildings were made from mortar and stone, the streets were dirt, and the roofs appeared to be made from clay. The clothes that people wore were clearly handmade from whatever bits of leather and wool they could put together. Their was one home that was constructed from metal with clearly apparent updated technologies. The man he was looking to speak with would in all likelihood be here. One of his old colleagues. Someone who had apparently worked closely with Ra's when he was originally beginning to gain power.

Before he even knocked on the front door a red sensor scanned his presence.

A moment or two later the door opened revealing his old friend Harvey Dent wearing a big smile and a formal suit clearly professionally made.

"Bruce Wayne," he said smiling.

"Hello Harvey," Bruce said reaching out shaking his hand.

"What brings you to my little rock?"

"Just need some information. Have you got some time?"

"Who wouldn't have time for the great Bruce Wayne?" he said cheerily. "Come on in."

He moved aside, the entrance of his home had fancy furnishings completely misplaced when compared to the town. Their were portraits and fancy tables with decorative flowers on it. It felt a little like walking into the lobby of a fancy hotel.

Harvey walked him to a side room which turned out to be an office. But rather than going over to the formal desk, he went over to the sofas on the opposite side of the room that were seating facing each other. A coffee table between them.

"Let's sit down, you want a drink?"

"Sure," Bruce sat on one of the sofas.

He held down the button on a wall speaker and asked whoever was at the other end to bring them some liquor. Then he took a seat across from him. "I know you've never been one for visiting just for the hell of it, so how can I help you?"

"How much information do you have on Ra's Al Ghul?"

He immediately smiled at the mention of the name. "Of everyone I know, I knew you would be the most upset by that outcome."

"I'm not upset, I just know how bad this is going to get. I'd like to stop it, or... at the very least slow it down."

"It's too late for that," Harvey pointed out. "He was working behind the scenes for years before he was voted in. Paying people off. Killing people who got too nosy. Gathering followers who are fiercely loyal even if it's mostly due to fear."

"Have any advice?" he asked.

One of his servants came in with their liquor setting it on the table before them, they poured out two shots, and with a bow they left. The two of them had gone silent until the servant left the room.

"You want my advice?" he said taking his drink quickly. "Ingratiate yourself to Lord Al Ghul. Remain on his good side. Everyone knows Bruce Wayne, his generosity and his wealth. As long as you don't do something stupid, like what it sounds like you're trying to do, you would likely live comfortably under his regime."

"You know I can't do that."

"Of course you can't," Harvey laughed, he leaned forward his tone changing to serious. "Here's what I got for you then... Now that his authority is _official_ he's going to start roping people in close. It's hard to rule a populace that's spread out. You can't maintain your control easily and you can't quell insurrection if it takes several months for information to reach them as well as you."

He jumped up heading over to his desk where he took a map from the drawer, and then returned, spreading it across the coffee table. It was a film as thin as paper, but worked the same as a touch screen, and displayed an interactive map. He tapped a part of the map where the core planets were located and it zoomed in. "Their are sixteen core planets, he's going to reduce them to nine. The three closest to the moon he runs will hold everyone he's deemed worthy. They'll have the best. The nicest habitats, the highest education, the best of healthcare. The three further out than that will house mid-wealth to the poor citizens. Their laborers basically. The last three he'll likely keep for military purposes, possibly even prisons."

He zoomed out again until the core planets were a single dot on the screen.

"All the rest of these," he gestured to the other terraformed planets further out. "He's going to make these locations as uninhabitable as possible. Taxing, removing incomes, pure force if it becomes necessary."

"Optimistic... But that would take him years, more than his lifespan would allow even if he lived to a ripe old age."

"Do you know how old Ra's Al Ghul is?" Harvey asked the serious tone in his voice slipping slightly and broke as he grinned. Clearly he was anticipating his response to be funny.

"I'm guessing he's around 75, 80."

"What would you say, if I told you, he was over 300 years old."

"I would say your drink was spiked," Bruce answered.

"I'm not kidding. He has found something that lets him cheat death over and over again. But even that has it's limits. From what I hear, whatever he's using can only be used once more and then his body won't be able to be regenerated again."

"So he'll die after that?" Bruce said indifferently.

"Not if he gets a new body."

"This is all sounding very magical in nature," Bruce didn't believe in magic. The idea of it all, especially in the technocratic universe that they lived in was absurd.

"Believe what you want. But I wouldn't bother trying to overthrow him. You could probably get away with buying a few moons and starting your own little haven away from alliance control, if you go out far enough. That is if you're really that opposed to what he's doing. Otherwise, I would say get yourself a manor on one the nearest core planet and spend the rest of your days attending parties and living in luxury."

"He's going to kill a lot of people..." Bruce sighed frowning.

"That's not your problem though," Harvey pointed out. "As your friend, I'm telling you. Just lay low and stay out of his way."

Their was a slight pause, and Harvey hoped he was considering it.

"Can you give me any other information?"

Harvey frowned. "Can I? Yes. Will I? No. I'm still under Al Ghul's payroll. I shouldn't even have told you what I did, but in honor of our past friendship..."

"Past friendship?"

"Well, if you're planning something against our leader we can't exactly stay friends after that," he explained bluntly. "So as I was saying, in honor of our past friendship, if you take any action against him hide your face. Don't let him know who you are. That way when things go south, and it will. You can always return to being Bruce Wayne."

Bruce knew his welcome had been overstayed so he took his shot and got to his feet.

"That's actually not bad advice Dent," Bruce said heading over to the door. "I probably won't see you again I think."

"You will, when you get over your do-gooder phase," Harvey explained scooping up the map. "And you come to the core planets as Bruce Wayne."

He showed himself out heading back to his ship at a slow pace. He didn't believe in the magic that Dent mentioned. It had to be rumors. Ra's Al Ghul could easily be a title rather than a name, and that would explain any evidence Dent might have had for the man being here past a normal human lifetime. He also had no intention of ever going to live at the Core planets, but Dent was right about the fact that any action he took against Al Ghul would need to be done in secret. The Wayne name couldn't be linked to any resistance efforts he took. It was likely too late for the Core planets. It would take nothing short of an army to stop him there, but odds were he could help the people further out. Keep Al Ghul's reign from forcing people to move within' his reach. But what would Bruce Wayne's reasoning be for traveling way out here?

* * *

"An all inclusive resort chain?" Alfred questioned twenty minutes later when Bruce was back in his personal shuttle. The aroma of Alfred's tea filled the shuttle, and he looked slightly concerned.

"People from the core may want to get away and relax far out from civilization," Bruce explained. "It'll not only make me more money but it'll be the perfect excuse for staying away from the central planets. What do you think?"

"I think it would decently explain the need to travel out this way," he admitted. "Where will you build your first resort?"

"Haven't thought that far ahead," Bruce admitted. "But I'll figure it out before long. Alfred, every night jump on the news feed and let me know if you hear any news about the Alliance branching further out."

"Yes Sir," he answered.

"I'll check on how long we got until we're in the air," Bruce left his shuttle heading outside in search of their mechanic, who he found apparently passed out on the ground. Tim was on a scissor lift working on one of the outer panels, when he saw Bruce he lowered it hoping down.

"Uh, Dad was just... he was tired so I thought I—"

"Calm down kid, I know you're the real mechanic here," Bruce said walking around to look at what he was working on.

Tim laughed, "How long have you known?"

"About five hours after you got on my ship," he explained. "What's wrong with her?"

"Some paneling dislodged. I'm almost done though, I didn't think you'd be back so quickly," he said heading back over to the lift.

"So how long has your Dad been taking credit for you work?" Bruce asked genuinely curious.

"A few years," Tim answered. "It's alright though, I can't really be hired by anyone legally, so Dad usually says he's the mech and I do the work."

"Why can't you be hired legally?" Bruce questioned. Genuinely curious. It's not like their were child labor laws, at least not out here.

"I um... I have a felony charge," Tim admitted looking a little abashed, so he turned on the lift so he could get up high enough where Bruce couldn't see him.

"You can work with a felony," Bruce commented. Though admittedly, their weren't many who would hire someone who had a felony charge. "But your fourteen how do you have a felony charge already?"

"I beat up the wrong person," he explained. "He paid to get me out of jail, and I've been indentured ever since."

Bruce frowned at hearing that. It was a very common practice for people to pay bail for those sent to jail and then make the people work for them until the debts were paid. He wouldn't have imagined a father would do that to their son though.

"How much is left on your debt?" Bruce called up to him.

"I stopped counting," Tim answered. "Dad just adds more whenever he wants, so it doesn't matter anyway."

Their was a finality to his tone that gave Bruce the impression that Tim had just accepted this as being his life now.

"Well, take your time, let me know when it's done."

"No problem," he called back. Bruce went back inside and Tim waited until he heard his footsteps go up the metal ramp before he sat down on bottom of the lift to take a breather. He hated telling people that. It was embarrassing to admit just how worthless your existence was, especially to a man who was not only wealthy but loved worlds over for his generosity and his attributions to some of the verses' greatest innovations. Wayne enterprises was responsible for the verses' terraforming capabilities. A decade or two, and Bruce could turn nearly any floating rock into a planet with plant life and an atmosphere. That would have been long before this particular Wayne was born. His family had wealth and fame for countless generations, Tim had read about Bruce's family when he was still in school, they were in nearly every history book in print at some point or another. How the hell did someone like him end up on the same ship as someone like that.

* * *

After doing some research Bruce decided that the first resort he was going to build would be on a planet called Artemis. After getting a hold of the local magistrate there he got permission for the build. It wasn't hard. As soon as they heard his name they were more than happy to make a deal with him.

They stopped off at a settlement on the other side of Tyche where they could pick up the supplies for it. Their was no way they would be able to get all the supplies needed for an entire resort onto one ship (at least not one their size). But he purchased enough to get started on the base of it, and would have the workers he would hire on Artemis order the rest.

As he was having Dick and Tim help the lumber mill workers load the ship, a woman he had seen in the mill shop hurried over to him.

"Sir," She was dressed in old clothes that were mismatched and frayed from use. Her hair was disheveled and she looked tried. "I'm so sorry to bother you. I... I was hoping you could help us."

"What seems to be the problem?"

"My husband is ill. We don't have the best medical facilities on this planet and no one ever visits here... So their aren't meany opportunities to leave the world and get him to a proper doctor. My son and I have been saving up money. We can pay... So I was hoping you could... perhaps..." she looked panicked.

"Go get your family, we'll take you to a Doctor," Bruce assured her.

"Oh, thank you!" she said throwing her arms around his shoulders, then she reached into a small pouch at her side pulling out a clumped wad of credit statements before she hurried off. Bruce unfolded the bills one by one counting it.

Alfred who wasn't standing too far away, walked up behind him. "Shall I prepare a guest room?"

"If you would," Bruce answered. "Tell Dick I need to talk to him, and give this money back to the woman as soon as she and her family board."

He handed him the papers and announced that they would be leaving in 15 minutes to everyone within' earshot.

* * *

The woman rushed back to the shanty that was her home. It was made from a little bit of nearly every piece of trash that would pass for a part of a house. A sheet of tin served as their roof. Fencing and Clay made up a wall. Dirt was good enough for the floors. She moved aside a the outer pannel discarded from a ship that she had used for a doorway and rushed inside.

"We got a rich one," she said smiling to the room at large.

Her husband, a broad shouldered and unkempt man looked up from the blade he was sharpening. "Wonderful, which one of us did you say was ill?"

"You Willie," she answered walking up to him she kissed him on the cheek.

They had run this scam before, switching up the person who was ill depending on what they figured would best suit the job.

"Guess I better dress the part," he put the knife in a sheath attached to his boot. "Jason get the rest of our weapons packed. Catherine, you contact our friends, and tell them we you caught for us."

She hurried over to their communication radio. It was a small piece of equipment with a satellite dish attached and a single button on the mouth piece that you press to speak.

"We got opulent cargo. There in less than 24 hours," she called over the system.

A few seconds later a voice replied. "Copy that."

Jason gathered up their best weapons tucking them in every corner of their suitcases that he could.

"So how rich is our latest sucker?"

"I heard him place a large lumber order. Dropped a small fortune down to purchase the materials like it was nothing. Called himself Bruce Wayne."

"What!?" Jason looked up from his work feeling like a brick had smacked him in the face. "Bruce Wayne... You... you had to have heard wrong. Theirs no way—"

"You're not calling your Mother old now are you?" she asked frowning. "My hearing is fine, he's Bruce Wayne."

"Why?" his father inquired looked as annoyed as he always did when Jason spoke out of turn.

Jason knew his parents weren't very well educated. But even he didn't think they were this stupid. Seriously, who hasn't heard of Bruce Wayne? He took a deep breath before he responded. "He's probably the richest man in the verse, and from what I hear he's someone that shouldn't be messed with."

"What would someone _that_ rich be doing way out here?" his Mother asked rolling her eyes.

"Obviously I wouldn't know that, but if this is Bruce Wayne then we should call this off."

"If what you're saying is true, that's all the more reason why we should go through with it," Willis explained.

"Dad you can't deal with someone on this scale," Jason implored.

"You're not getting cold feet are you boy?" the disappointment on his Father's face seemed to sink into him, and the look alone temporarily made him reconsider. But no... They couldn't do this!

"Dad I'm serious! You can't!"

"Why's that exactly?"

"The man's paid to be intelligent for a living, and you're not smart enough," his Dad was going to get them killed.

"I don't have the time to beat your ass for that remark," Willis snapped raising the gun he was holding in a threatening manor, but he didn't directly point it at Jason. "Get the damn stretcher and let's get ready to leave."

 _They were going die_ , Jason thought immediately as he went to grab it.

* * *

Bruce hurried out when Tim said the family was approaching. The wife and their son were carrying the father on a stretcher. He moaned and groaned laying on the drama thick as molasses.

"Let me help you with that," Bruce offered taking the end the woman was holding he helped the boy carry his father on board. Once on board Dick closed the hatch and Bruce leaned over the man.

"My name is Bruce Wayne can you hear me Sir?" he asked.

Willis barely opened his eyes groaning but forcing word to come out, "Yes... Yes I... I can."

"Well, don't you worry about a thing from this point on. We'll get you some help, please just try to relax."

"God Bless you Sir," he whispered weakly taking Bruce's hand like a starving man would reach for bread. He held it tightly. "God... Bless you."

Jason leaned against a cargo crate rolling his eyes. His Dad never could play sick without going the fuck overboard. Seriously...

Bruce clapped his hand back in comradary, before he turned to Alfred. "Is everyone on board?"

"I believe so Sir," he answered.

"Good, let's take off then," Bruce turned to Jason and his Mother. "Don't worry, the nearest medical facility is only a days flight out. Dick will help you take the patient to one of the passenger dorms and while we wait, please ask Alfred for anything you might need, he's a fantastic cook."

With that Bruce hurried off.

 _Seriously,_ Jason thought. _He bought that? Probably the worst case of acting he'd ever seen in his life! Maybe Bruce Wayne was a stupid man after all..._


	3. Till Death Do Us Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a bit of a commotion they remain on track for Artemis only with two prisoners on board, and a surprise package awaits Bruce at a Postal station.

"Why did you stay?" Bruce asked his reservations about questioning Damian on his motive had disappeared along with his ability to focus on this game. He kept trying to concentrate but his mind would drift to other things.

"People find death scary," Damian answered not looking up from the board.

"Mother told me fear was unnecessary. It makes people do bad things. So she... she had them cut..." Damian being unable to think of the word he was trying to think of touched his head as though this fully described what he was trying to express. He closed his eyes, and Bruce couldn't tell if he was trying to find the words or if he had lost his train of thought. Then again, maybe he was just tired. Bruce couldn't blame him if he was. But they both knew if they fell asleep they would never wake up. After the pause he sighed and continued. "Cut it... I've never... I can't feel that... emotion. She... she said it was a pain in your head that makes... make you fail, it makes... people disobey, and kill... and steal. She said... she said it's... it's hellish."

"I can't feel that, and... you can. So... I thought it... it would be best... if we concen... con.." he sighed closing his eyes in annoyance at not being able to form the words. "If we played this... you wouldn't... wouldn't have to focus on... on that... that hell..."

"WHY CAN'T I... TALK!" he snapped frustratingly and he leaned forward burying his face in his hands. So that was why. He didn't want Bruce to feel scared, and from what it sounded like, Damian himself couldn't feel fear. He didn't completely understand that part, but it made sense considering what he knew of him. After a second or two the boy looked up. "Whose turn?"

 _Don't make him suffer_ , Bruce thought and the next few pieces he moved he used whatever judgement that still remained to set it up making it easier for Damian to win. Then...

"Checkmate," Damian smiled and just as quickly it faded off his face. He shivered pulling back from the bored looking a little lost.

No more distraction.

He looked up into Bruce's eyes. He hadn't lasted. Bruce was still here, going, but not gone. Stopping now meant their would be nothing to concentrate on but the end. Damian couldn't have that. He wouldn't let his Father die dwelling on the end. "I'll set it... We can... we'll... play again."

He reached out, his small hand wrapping around a few of the pawns to set up the board once more. Bruce wouldn't have it. Damian had done enough. The boy had already forfeited his life just to make sure his Father wouldn't be scared in his final moments and that was more than anyone could have asked of him, more than should have been expected of a child, of a son. He took Damian's hand making him drop the pieces.

"Thank you," Bruce said. "I enjoyed the game."

Something about his tone made Damian look up. In his Father's eyes... he could see it. Damian could already feel his betrayal sinking in and his chest suddenly felt heavy.

"Don't," he warned.

"Damian, what you did... it was very kind... and—"

"No!" he snapped bringing his hands up to cover his ears.

Bruce reached up physically pulling his hand's away and holding them down so he couldn't do it again.

"You promised," Damian whispered weakly attempting to pull away but he clearly didn't have his normal strength, neither did Bruce for that matter, but he wasn't going to let Damian cover his ears again.

"Thank you Damian," he said softly. "Despite everything you've been... through... You turned out good and kind. When all the odds were against that."

"Don't," Damian snapped still trying to pull away from him again in their struggling, the chess board got knocked about sending the pieces in multiple directions.

"I'm very proud of you, Son," Bruce said softly, and Damian froze upon hearing the complement. They sat in silence for a bit the words sinking in. Then...

"You said... you wouldn't..." Damian's hurt expression from being betrayed by him was almost too much for Bruce. The boy had completely stopped fighting against him, and now refused to even meet his eyes.

"I know..." Ever since they had learned about Damian's condition, forcing him to do anything was something he always said he would never do, and until this moment he never had. "You keep... keep that good heart wherever you end up next."

He didn't know if reincarnation was real, and he didn't have any strong beliefs in any particular God or Gods. But if it was a thing, he really hoped Damian's next life would be a good one. One filled with happiness and all the animals a child could ever hope to play with.

"Don't," Damian asked again. "Father... please..."

Damian looked up at him. One last time, and the expression seemed to tear into Bruce's chest as if someone had stabbed him. That was it, he couldn't put it off any longer.

"Go to sleep," Bruce ordered.

Damian had to listen.

He couldn't choose not to.

His eyes closed and he fell forward instantly unconscious. He hoped Damian knew how strong he was, and this had not been a failure for him. That this had merely been the choice of his cowardly father. Bruce was, in the end, a weak man who didn't want to watch his child sit there struggling for breath, suffering. He was simply too afraid to watch his son die.

With more effort than it should have taken, he pulled the child into his arms. The boy was lighter than he thought he would be, and yet it was still difficult to hold him. He swayed when he made to stand while holding the kid. He was further gone than he thought, it was hard to breathe and hard to think. It was freezing. It was... quiet. He placed the boy in the pilot's seat and put blankets on top of him to keep him as warm as possible. Now Damian could just sleep. Slowly, he would run out of breath, and he would just leave. No pain. No gasps. When enough of the oxygen depleted, he would just be gone. It would be peaceful, and Bruce told himself this was for the best.

_Their was air... emergency oxygen in the infirmary._

The thought suddenly crossed his mind and he wondered why. He had absolutely no intention of getting it. The oxygen would only last someone an hour or two and Damian was resting peacefully now. It would be cruel to delay it. Especially since the oxygen was dissipating slowly for them. But if he gave him some from the tank in the infirmary it would run out quickly, abruptly, and then he would suffocate in a far more gruesome manor than this. Not to imply that this was a pleasant way to go.

He could use it for himself... But no... Even if it would buy him time to possibly have someone answer the distress call, he didn't want to take it. A part of him knew no one was going to answer. Had Damian not been here, he would have put more consideration on it. Now, he just wanted to sit here, with his child, until it was over. Until they were dead.

The oxygen wouldn't do any good anyway with no heat. When they were playing, he been sufficiently distracted from the impending cold, now that he didn't have that to focus on, he could tell just how cold it was. He sat on the floor beside Damian and pulled the blanket on his shoulders closer around him.

It's okay... it would be over soon.

His mind couldn't help but wander to the two shuttles getting further and further away. He hoped they would be saved before their limited time was up.

* * *

༒ back when it started ༒

* * *

_"A whole ship of suckers," Willis laughed when they were safely out of earshot and in the passenger dorm they were assigned. They had already taken off._

_"When shall we attack?" his Mother asked cheerfully._

_"Tonight, after everyone's gone to sleep," Willis informed her. "Jason go scope out the ship. Get a good look at the layout, record it and send it back to me."_

_"Fine..." he said grabbing a pair of glasses from one of their cases. It had a built in camera in it's frame. He walked out sliding the door behind him._

_Willis turned to his wife, "How attached are you to that boy?"_

_"Not much," she answered. "Why?"_

_"The boy's been really disobedient lately," he pointed out lighting a cigarette he took a drag on it before he leaned back against his pillow. "I have to keep tellin' him multiple times when to do something, and last week during that robbery he refused to shoot that bitch behind the counter, you remember that?"_

_"I sure do," she answered nodding her head._

_"I don't have the time or money to be babysitting and feeding something that isn't even going to listen to me, and calling me stupid earlier was about the last straw."_

_"Are you gonna kill him?"_

_"I'll let the net do that for me," he grinned. "As long as he doesn't get too mouthy. And if he does I'll just shoot him."_

_"But Willie," she said softly. "He's our pilot. I'm not good at flying. Who would fly the shuttle we're going to use to escape with?"_

_"C'mon, those shuttles practically fly themselves," Willis pointed out. "But if it makes you feel better we can shoot him after we've made it to our next destination. We can find ourselves a more obedient pilot later. We'll certainly have the money to hire one after this job."_

The camera had recorded the whole scene. He had a rule about not putting camera's in dorms, but... he hadn't trusted them from the moment they got on his ship. So, he was willing to overlook that personal rule of his. Bruce sat in his shuttle with his fingers interlocked watching their plot unfold. Dick was standing beside his chair. This footage was from two hours prior, he only now had a chance to watch it.

"How the hell did you know?" Dick asked smiling. Seemingly slightly impressed.

"When she handed me the funds in an attempt to bribe me to give her passage on the ship she handed be way too much money. She would have been able to call for help and have it here within' minutes based on what she handed over. So I had two thoughts, either... A, Dent blocked the populace's ability to call out for assistance. Dent can be an ass, but that didn't quite sound like something he would do. Or B, their was a specific need for her to get on _our_ ship, and the most likely reason for that is because they're looking to steal."

"Should we go confront them?" Dick asked. "I've been getting pretty good at at disarming you in training."

"Wait until they make the first move, and if you have to engage Jason do you best to not hurt him," he said. "Kid can't be more than fifteen, it's not his fault his parents made him engage in this line of work."

"I'm sixteen actually."

Bruce and Dick spun around to find Jason leaning in the doorway, he had a gun pointed at them.

"I'm impressed, I didn't even hear you come in," Bruce said.

"Bust open the room panel and snap the return pulley and most ship doors will slide open soundlessly as long as they're not rusted," he pointed out.

"Any chance you heard about what your Father was planning?" Dick asked hopefully hoping that might change the kid's mind about shooting them.

"Yeah," he answered. "I always knew Dad was going to kill me one of these days. I'm kinda surprised he waited this long."

"Put the gun down and we won't take you out the same time as your parents," Bruce said sternly.

"Or, I could turn you in to them and and maybe Dad will reconsider ending me," Jason answered.

They were having a stare down. Both waiting for the other to even do so much as flinch, but after a moment, Jason uncocked his gun and let the bullets fall onto the floor, and then he threw it in Bruce's direction who caught it easily.

"I told them not to take this job," Jason pointed out walking over to a nearby chair he took a seat. "I knew it was going to be a bad idea to take on Bruce Wayne from the beginning. I already fucked up your nav anyway. You're headed towards a catcher's net with no way to turn or steer clear of it."

A net was a trap set by small space-stations typically manned by pirates, which if your ship went through it, it basically sent an insane amount of electricity through your boat. Since nearly all spaceships were metal it was pretty much guaranteed to fry any people on board and wreck your technical systems. This allowed the criminals to explore your ship for valuables and after strip it for parts.

"Can you fix it?" Bruce asked.

"I'm probably the only person on this ship who can," he explained. "The only question now, is how much are you willing to pay to have me fix it."

Dick laughed, "I think Tim could probably fix it."

"If you're willing to risk your life on a probably, then go ahead. But if you want a guarantee, you might want to start making offers."

"Dude, you're a kid. Are you seriously trying to black mail us?" Dick asked.

"If you're thinking you'll just fly an escape shuttle out of here, They're out of commission, It'll probably take a good eight hours to fix just one of them. You have two before my parent's decide to launch their attack, and you have two and a half before you're in the net."

"You realize you've essentially trapped yourself too," Dick pointed out.

"It's my first solo heist," he responded grinning. "And I'm a firm believer in sink or swim. How about it Bruce?"

Bruce was (to Dick's surprise) smiling. "Your parents said in the video that you're their pilot."

"Yeah."

"How good are you?"

"I'm better than whoever launched this rust bucket after I got on," he sighed. "Seriously this ship was shaking so bad I didn't think we were going to make it out of Orbit. But stop trying to change the subject."

"I'm not... I'm offering you a job," Bruce explained.

"... Sorry what?" Jason looked confused.

"Yeah what?" Dick asked.

"We know the basic mechanics of launching and landing, but Alfred and I aren't really pilots, and we could use one. Fix the nav and you can stay on and pilot this rust bucket, as you called her."

"..." Jason studied him for a moment. Then answered with, "You're trying to trick me."

"No trick. It's a legitimate business opportunity."

"I'm blackmailing you, as well as threatening to kill all of you! So maybe I'm the one you should be listening to."

"You can either commit this crime, and have to spend you life moving on to the next one, and the next one. Or you can end this cycle. Choose this legitimate opportunity, make some decent money, while not having to worry about sinking or getting caught in your crimes ever again."

 _He's playing me, he has to be_ , Jason thought instantly.

"As you were mentioning, we don't have a lot of time. So let me know now, am I sending you the blackmail money or are you accepting my job offer. Either way, you need to get to work on repairing the nav system."

 _This has to be a trick_? he thought _Their was no way he was this_ naïve _._

Jason threw a look to Dick, almost as if he was asking if this was real. Dick just shrugged back at him an expression that seemed to scream, _what can I say? He's crazy_. He looked back up at Bruce who did not wait for his reply, and held out his hand smiling, "Good to have you on board Jason."

* * *

"Where the hell have you been?" Willis asked when Jason walked in the room.

"Sorry, I got distracted talking with one of the crew members."

"Damn it boy! I don't have time to review your footage of the ship now!"

"Sorry!" he said taking the glasses off he put them back in it's case. His Father grabbed it angrily throwing it in his jacket pocket

"You're just going to have to direct us to the escape shuttles," he scoffed. "Did you redirect their nav system?"

"It's messed up so bad, you can't put it right again without special tools," Jason assured him.

"Good, that's just what I wanted to hear," he turned to his wife. "Are you ready?"

She pulled on her red hood. "Ready."

Jason pulled his on as well, "Let's do this quick."

They grabbed everything essential throwing it on their persons and readied their weapons. It was night time. Though when you're on a Spaceship you can't tell by looking out the windows. All they had to do was get in an escape shuttle, wait for the ship to get caught in the net, and then the catchers would forward their payment to them. They slid the door open and rushed out into the hall.

"The cargo bay is on your left and then the escape shuttles will be up a set of steps on the right," Jason informed his parents and they took the upcoming left emerging into the bay to find their escape blocked by three people.

"What the hell!" Willis snapped. "How?"

Bruce, Dick and Alfred were standing there. All of them looking completely relaxed, so it wasn't as though they had run into them by chance.

"Hello," Bruce said. "Go ahead and drop your guns, you might get hurt if you don't."

"Drop our guns?" Willis snapped. "You three aren't even holding any!"

He heard a clatter beside him. Jason had dropped his gun and he placed his hands behind his head. "Don't bother, they have quash pulse. I saw it earlier."

"What the hell is that?"

"It's a speaker that sends out radio waves that block trigger sensors from firing. Our guns are useless."

"You're kidding!?" His Mother snapped.

"You're welcome to try to shoot, but I'll have you disarmed the moment it fails. Save yourselves the pain. Drop your weapons," Bruce ordered. "Surrender."

"..."

Another clatter, his wife had dropped hers and placed her hands behind her head. Willie sighed dropping his as well he too put his hands on his head. How did their plan fail? How could it have gone wrong? Their plan was perfect!

"On your knees all of you."

They did. Alfred and Dick walked behind him and his wife, they handcuffed their hands behind their back. Bruce walked over to his son, but instead of handcuffing him he held his hand out, and his son took it. Bruce pulled Jason to his feet, and Jason removed his hood smiling.

"Wait... wait, what the hell is going on?" Willie snapped.

Jason reached in his pocket pulling out a voice recorder, he hit play:

_"How attached are you to that boy?"_

_"Not much, why?"_

_"The boy's been really disobedient lately. I have to keep tellin' him multiple times when to do something, and last week during that robbery he refused to shoot that bitch behind the counter, you remember that?"_

Jason didn't break eye contact with is father while it played.

_"I sure do._

_"I don't have the time or money to be babysitting and feeding something that isn't even going to listen to me, and calling me stupid earlier was about the last straw."_

_"Are you gonna kill him?"_

_"I'll let the net do that for me. As long as he doesn't get too mouthy. And if he does I'll just shoot him."_

He stopped the recorder. "Thanks for your message Dad, I'll play it every Birthday."

"You dumb shit," Willis snapped. "That's... that's obviously edited."

"It was originally a video," Jason pointed out and Willis looked furious.

"You betrayed me you damn brat!"

"You betrayed me first, and by the way theirs no such thing as a quash pulse. I completely made it up, your guns would have fired at any time."

His mother clamored to her feet and Dick held her arm to prevent her from heading over to her son, she wasn't going to be able to hurt anyone with her hands behind her back, but he din't want to take any chances.

"How could you! We're you parents!" his Mother snapped angrily.

Jason didn't even bother to answer her, but the look of disappointment was apparent. Bruce took a step forward to redirect their attention.

"Go finish up fixing the nav," Bruce ordered.

"Yes Sir Boss," Jason said heading toward the bridge.

"You... You said you screwed up the nav, and that it couldn't be fixed without special tools!" Willis snapped furiously at his son.

"I said _you_ can't put it right again without special tools, I never said _I_ can't," Jason pointed out cockily before disappearing down the hall that led to the bridge.

"Dick, we're going to use the second shuttle as a temporary jail until we land on Artemis. There we'll see to it that the proper authorities are notified."

"You fucking bastard!" Willie continued cursing long after Dick had brought them both into the shuttled and sealed the door shut behind them. His muffled curses were and threats were ignored as they all headed to the bridge. That's where he action was happening after all. If this failed they were all going to die after all. So what else was more important than this. Both Jason and Tim were under the control panel messing with the wires. Jason was showing him what he did to muck up their system so bad, and even though their lives were on the line, he found learning about how to fix it fascinating.

It took awhile of stripping wires and redirecting cords, but eventually navigation got back on line and they turned the ship around heading back towards Artemis.

"There you go," Jason said when it was all done leaning back in the pilot's seat.

"Now that that's over, I for one would rather not keep this thief on the payroll!" Jack snapped. Jack had asked a lot of questions when Bruce told his son and him to stay hidden while they caught the pirates. He was completely filled in on the issue and he didn't like it. "Let's lock him in the shuttle with his parents!"

Well Jason couldn't say he hadn't thought this might happen, he turned the pilot's chair around to face Jack and Bruce stepped forward.

"Well I for one believe that isn't your decision," Bruce commented. He turned to Alfred, "Could you please show Jason to the crew dorms."

Jason was a little surprised that Bruce didn't immediately agree with that Jack guy. Any sane person would have. But he wasn't one willing to argue a point that wasn't in his favor. So he followed Alfred in silence.

"You're letting him stay. We all could have died because of that kid!" Jack spat furiously.

"No one's dead," Bruce answered dully and Jack felt a little insulted, like Bruce talking to him wasn't worthy his time because he immediately turned his attention to the ship panel looking through the news feed.

"If you keep that boy on this ship you're going to be short a mechanic!" he snapped grinning, he didn't like being ignored and if Bruce thought he was going disregarded like this he had another thing coming. HE was the most important person on this ship. Without a mechanic ships don't run. He was the life blood of this vessel and it was time Bruce realized it.

"You're welcome to leave when we get to Artemis," Bruce answered, without a hint of concern in his voice. "But I won't be short a mechanic if you're gone."

Tim who was still looking at the wiring job with his back to them closed his eyes upon hearing that. Bruce had essentially just told his Father that he knew Tim was the real mechanic, and he knew that wasn't going to go well for him. That was something he wasn't told to never let anyone know.

Sure enough...

His Father back handed him in their quarters twenty minutes later. He fell hard against the metal wall and choose to slump to the floor rather than get up and be hit again.

"You told him?" he snapped.

"I didn't tell him, he figured it out," Tim answered simply.

"Yeah right!" he growled. "You better not be thinking of running away once we get to Artemis."

That wasn't exactly an out of nowhere statement. He had tried to run away from his Father once before, but that was well over two years ago and the lesson he learned that day had been a painful one he wasn't about to repeat.

"I wasn't even considering it," he answered. He could feel the side of his face throbbing from where his Dad had hit him.

"Well you're not leaving the ship once we're there, you understand?"

"Fine..." he answered curtly.

"If I hear you even put one foot off—"

"I said Fine!" Tim growled getting to his feet slowly. "Why the hell do you care so much anyway?"

"Because this is the best job paying job we've ever had," Jack took a seat on his bed exhaling. "I'm not going to lose it just because you've decided to try and make the Captain feel bad for you. I'm not sure what the hell you were thinking by telling him that, he's not going to save you from me. The law is on my side, I own you. Nothing he says will change that. If he kicks me off this ship, guess what brat, you have to go with me."

This was sadly true. He was... technically, his Father's property. Even if someone tried to take him away from his Dad, it would be considered stealing, and he could call Alliance officers to help get him back.

"Besides, if you keep this up I'll tell him the reason you're a felon, and if you think he's going to give a rat's ass about you then, you've got another thing coming."

Tim sat down on the opposite cot holding his head. Whatever... His Father was right about one thing, this was a nice job, and Tim didn't want to lose it either. He would keep his mouth shut about Jack. If he got kicked off the ship Tim would indeed have to go with him, and they might end up somewhere worse next time. So he wasn't going to do anything that might cost them their place on the ship.

* * *

The following day they got a wave from a postal route station which said they had mail for Bruce. It wasn't far out of their way, so he decided to stop there before they made their way to Artemis. Alfred said he would stay behind to keep an eye on the prisoners. The rest of them, minus Tim who told Bruce he wasn't feeling well, disembarked to stretch their legs. Postal route stations tended to have shops and cheap restaurants in addition the post office where you could pick up your mail.

Jason walked over leaning against the counter while Bruce asked about the mail.

"You got what appears to be a few letters, and a pretty large package," the mail carrier explained.

"Now good Sir that is highly inappropriate, you shouldn't be talking about people's packages while on the job," Jason said smirking.

Bruce took the clipboard that the carrier handed him in order to sign for it, and lightly smacked Jason's head with it before he signed his name and gave it back.

"Ow, what did I do?" he asked.

"Just go get it," Bruce demanded.

Sighing he followed the postal worker off to help him pull around this package he spoke of. It was a large rectangular crate. Bruce was very confused when he saw it. He couldn't recall ordering anything that would need a crate of that size.

Jack walked around eyeing the box suspiciously.

"Here's a crowbar," the postal worker said handing it to Bruce so he could open his package. Bruce walked over and popped off the top, and they fell silent when they saw what was inside. A metal box, with a control pad attached. When he hit the button it displayed some numbers with labels written in a language he didn't understand but he recognized the characters as being from the universal language the Alliance was trying to get everyone to use instead of whatever they were born speaking. It hadn't quite caught on enough yet. But soon it was going to be the primary language across all the planets.

"Why does that look like a coffin?" Jason asked concerned.

Dick looked concerned, "What _did_ you order Bruce?"

"I didn't order anything," he explained.

"Then what the hell is this?" Jack snapped frowning.

"Let's find out," he answered releasing the seal and they heard an expulsion of air before he and Jason pulled it off.

A boy laid inside it. By all appearances, a dead one. His arms were crossed on his chest and he was dressed in elaborate Chinese/Arabian themed clothing. Making him look like someone had buried a Prince or an Emperor. His clothes were pure white without a speck of dirt on them. Woven into the fabric appeared to be pearls, diamonds, opals. Pretty much every precious gem that came in white adorned his person somewhere. The headband that seemed to be serving as a crown was made of ivory and also bearing beautiful white gems. It all contrasted horribly with his dark as space hair.

No one said anything for almost a minute until Jason finally broke the silence, "Seriously, what the fuck?"

"You have to get that out of here!" the carrier gasped whispering urgently to Bruce. "Seriously I could lose my position. You can't mail dead bodies, it's... It's highly illegal!"

"I didn't order this!" _Seriously who would order this?_

"I say we get it on the ship and figure this out later," Dick suggested.

"Oh no... you leave this here!" Jack snapped. "We should call the authorities and—"

"Jack, leave it be," he snapped and he motioned for Jason and Dick to each take a side to carry it on to the ship.

Once on board Bruce hit a button on the PA system that could reach everyone on board. "Alfred, come to the cargo bay."

Alfred had been washing dishes at the time of the call. He replaced the plate in the water and dried his hands before heading there.

"Yes Master Bruce?" he asked upon arriving.

"Something came in the mail..." Bruce said softly.

"It's a Halloween decoration," Jason joked grinning.

"No more jokes, I want answers to this now. We're searching the crate."

He walked over pulling the lids off it again until the body was visible. Alfred's eyes widened. "What is he doing here?"

Bruce looked around the edges of the box. The lining was plush and incredibly soft, clearly made from pricey fabrics. He noticed vents every few inches. Vents? In a coffin? Why would a coffin need air vents? His eyes widened slightly as soon as the thought occurred to him and he immediately reached over checking the boy for a pulse. He had one. Now that he was looking the boy was breathing, even if it was weak and barely noticeable. "He's alive."

"Seriously?" Dick hurried over.

"Alfred open the infirmary. Dick, take the kid there," he ordered.

Richard wasted no time picking him up and heading with Alfred. Bruce at that point threw the silk pillow aside and started tearing out the lining of the box.

"Boss?" Jason frowned he was slightly concerned that he was destroying the container.

When Bruce tore aside the lining their were a few things below a layer of matting that the child was lying on. A pair of ordinate swords. A few sets of folded clothes tied with ribbon to stay in their stacks neatly. On top... a letter. He unfolded it, and it read:

_Take care of him Beloved._

_~All my love._

His frowned deepened. Jack curiously walked up close enough to read it over his shoulder. "Beloved? Who is that from?"

"I don't know," Bruce said softly. "This crate is packed with the child's belongings as though someone were sending him on a trip..."

"In a coffin?" Jason remarked. "Kind of ominous."

Tim had come down the stairs about that point and had evidently passed Dick carrying the child on the way because he asked, "Who's the new kid?"

Bruce didn't know what to think. This was all so strange. He couldn't believe anyone would do this to a kid, let alone send that kid to a complete stranger. It didn't make sense. They weren't going to learn anything unless that kid woke up. _If_ that kid woke up. He jumped to his feet hurrying to the infirmary, and the rest of the crew followed him out of curiosity. They call gathered at the door when Bruce walked inside. Alfred had laid the child on the hospital table, and Dick was standing off to the side giving Alfred room he needed to check his vitals.

"He seems... fine," Alfred said. "His oxygen levels are normal. His heart rate is a bit low, but in the typical range of someone in a very deep sleep."

"Will he wake on his own?" Bruce asked.

"I imagine he was probably given something to keep him unconscious... Their are drugs that will slow one's system down enough to appear dead. Shall I attempt to give him something to wake him?"

"Do it," Bruce folded his arms.

Alfred headed over to a drawer taking out a syringe and placing it into one of the labeled bottles on their shelf. Once it was full of the substance he walked over injecting it into the child's arm. He pulled the needle out once it was emptied. "He should awaken in a moment."

Alfred put the needle on the counter.

"Once he aw—" Alfred was cut off when the child's eyes opened. They darted around the room quickly, and fell on Alfred. He sat bolt upright grabbing a pair of scissors on the small side table beside the bed he was lying on, holding it like a small blade. He launched himself towards Alfred. Both Bruce and Dick rushed forward.

"Kid it's okay!" Dick called grabbing him around the shoulders.

"Calm down!" Bruce snapped grabbing the wrist of the hand holding the scissors. The boy stopped his assault immediately. Bruce grabbed the scissors from him putting them on the counter far from him. "You're alright..."

He motioned for Dick to let him go, and the boy stood looking around at everyone in confusion. The crown ornament he had on his head had fallen off in the commotion, and even a few of the jewels on his robe had fallen off and rolled across the floor.

"No one's going to hurt you," Bruce assured him. "I understand you're probably really confused and scared."

"I'm not scared," he answered.

"Okay then," he frowned. "Who are you?"

"Damian."

"Do you have a last name?"

"... No."

"Okay..." Bruce sighed. "You were mailed to us in a box, do you remember that?"

Damian nodded, he was still looking about the room almost as if he were looking for something specific.

"Do you know why?"

"I was being sent to my Father," he explained.

"Your Fa—? Who is your Father?" Bruce asked, but seeing as his name was on the mailing address. He had a sinking feeling he knew who he was going to say.

"Bruce Wayne," he answered.

Tim had to cover his mouth to hide his shocked laugh. Jason however didn't even bother to hide his mocking laughter. Dick just looked concerned, frowning up at Bruce. Alfred turned away contenting himself with cleaning the syringe. Tim was trying to see Bruce's expression but the angle that he was looking at him at didn't allow his expression to be visible.

"That's not possible."

"So it is you then..." Damian eyed him up and down. "Heh... I thought you would be taller."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still debating on if I'll include Reavers or not.
> 
> For those of you who haven't watched Firefly. They're sort of like Space Zombies. XD


End file.
